


Corrosion

by keirajo



Series: The Love of Romance [18]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Action, Drama, Implied/Referenced Torture, Interrogation, M/M, References to Drugs, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Megatron, Ratchet and Thunderclash head on to Tor--while Rodimus and Drift headed for Auocap.   Though the day had started off well, with witty banter and light teasing, soon the involvement of the Trylians gave the day a very bleak turn...…...
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Megatron/Rodimus
Series: The Love of Romance [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1222904
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Corrosion

**Author's Note:**

> There's no actively descriptive elements of violence or whatever at this point, so "Teen+" should cover the rating for this 'fic. This is basically what happened at the same time as the ending of "Collision", where Drift and Rodimus were on Auocap. With this 'fic, the two settings converged and next...……...we'll see what happened to Megatron.

**_ Corrosion _ **

Thunderclash gave a low whistle of appreciation as Megatron walked into the shuttle bay.

“This is not a word I generally use, but………… _wow_ ,” Ratchet said, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

Megatron frowned at them.

“I admit, I’m quite jealous that Rodimus has such impressive polishing skills,” Thunderclash responded with a grin, eyeing Megatron from helm to pede. “ _Even your treads_ —that is amazing.”

“He _really_ outdid himself—he and Drift never go that…………. _in-depth_ ,” Ratchet added, nodding knowingly. “Why are you being so cranky about it? I would’ve thought you probably would’ve enjoyed it—I’m sure _Rodimus_ made sure you enjoyed it.”

“Because you are making fun of me,” Megatron grunted, walking past them onto the small shuttlecraft. It was a faster one, thin with maneuverability.

“We’re not making fun of you,” Thunderclash said, peaceably. “Just trying to get you to _lighten up_ a little, Megatron. If you’re going to go out and deal with other species, you need to be a little more open here.”

Megatron sighed softly. He **_knew_** that. It was just that he felt very prickly about having to go out and do it. But for a negotiation like this, it should really be the _Captain_ of the ship—and since he’d already promised Rodimus could go on to Auocap, to get new decals and to maybe do a race, Megatron had to do this negotiation himself.

“Look, I know you’re uncomfortable around organics, but just incycle and exvent like _this_ ………..” Ratchet said, sitting down in the co-pilot’s chair before Thunderclash did. He showed an example of the incycle and exvent—it was part of meditation techniques that Drift had been showing him for years. “If it helps any, it seems that the inhabitants of Tor are like giant Minotaurs. They’re just about as tall as us. They _aren’t_ tiny organics.”

“What’s a Minotaur?” Thunderclash asked, settling down in one of the wall seats along the back of the cockpit area. Unlike some Autobots, the old hero had never been to Earth.

“Back on Earth, it was one of their mythological figures—human male shape and a bull head. Depending on the artist, they might have hooved feet, too,” Ratchet answered, looking back at his old friend. “And despite what Megatron might say, I _know_ he’s well-educated about Earth.”

“That Earth place sounds strange and interesting,” Thunderclash chuckled softly.

Megatron made a non-committal grunt and started the engines of the shuttle. He couldn’t say much about it—after all, he’d completely conquered the planet once before. Well, at least one continent of the planet. For a tiny, fleshy species—the Earthlings were _persistent_ , no matter how fragile they were. A part of him could respect that tenacity. The planet itself had been strange and different—and as he’d later learned, Shockwave had planted some of his ores on that world. It gave the organic rock a mineral Cybertronian base. Which was why the Energon that could be created on that planet was very rich and beneficial to Cybertronian systems.

Thunderclash and Ratchet chatted most of the trip to Tor. Sometimes Megatron would add some to the conversation, especially when they started debating an old and heated Cybertronian concept or another. Mostly, Megatron just concentrated on piloting the shuttle.

“Are you looking forward to seeing Rodimus’ new flame-decals?” Ratchet asked as Megatron parked the shuttle where the Torian aerospace system directed them to park.

“I am looking forward to him accepting those flames as something more than punishment,” the grey-colored mech responded, his servos brushing over buttons on the panel in front of him as he code-locked the shuttle down. “It isn’t so much wearing them that I’m interested in—it’s him _accepting_ he no longer needs to punish himself for what happened in Nyon. **_That_** is Zeta’s fault and it’s also Orion’s fault.”

Ratchet grunted non-committally. He knew the history of what happened and he did actually know what Orion Pax had said to Hot Rod over destroying Nyon himself or letting Zeta Prime trounce all over it, but Optimus was still an old friend of his and he still disliked speaking unfavorably of his friend.

“If it means anything, Megatron—you’ve made a very good partner for him. He isn’t hoping for the universe to destroy him anymore. That recklessness of his was suicidal and very few understood that, they took his outgoing banter as misguided, youthful force,” the old Autobot medic finally replied, lightly patting Megatron’s shoulder.

“Indeed,” Megatron murmured as they got up and prepared to disembark from the shuttle.

Thunderclash had stopped at the bottom of the ramp and held a hand back to them to stay back. Then the old Autobot hero stepped off the ramp and looked around carefully. He kept sensors in the general area of the shuttle that was bothering him. Eventually he grunted and motioned for the two of them to join him. Ratchet asked what was bothering him and he pointed at another shuttle on the landing area. The old medic shrugged and Megatron frowned deeply.

“ _Trylian_?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

“It matches the design of what we’d seen back on their ship,” Thunderclash answered, his voice even in tone, meaning he was keeping some emotions in check. “But it doesn’t look like an assault craft—it looks like a rendezvous craft. That means the Trylian warship _must_ be somewhere in the system.”

“They may have come here for the same reason we did—supplies,” Ratchet said with a huff. He had not yet interacted with the Trylians, but Drift had been in an incident with them. “If we don’t interact, we shouldn’t aggravate anything with one another, right? So, we should hope for that,” the old medic continued as the three of them walked down to the welcome center and were greeted by a female of the Torian species.

She had the bovine head, but only tiny little stubs of horns. She had on some kind of uniform, that was very form-fitting and showed off what was likely her “ _finest assets_ ” to her species.

“Greetings, I am Bella of Gren,” she said, formally, in Galactic Standard as she made a gesture of a dip of her shoulders. “My employer is Korkal Industries and the one you spoke with is our Head of Production and Services, Nikk of Jace.”

“I am Captain Megatron, from Tarn on Cybertron. This is one of our leading medics on our crew and a member of our security, as I outlined to your employer over the communications system,” the grey-colored mech introduced formally, then pointed to each of his companions as he gave their names. “Ratchet of Vaporex and Thunderclash from Iacon.” Megatron realized he didn’t actually know where Thunderclash was born and had always known the mech had lived in Iacon most of his life before he began his heroic journeys out into the universe, so he quickly gave that as a reference. It wasn’t as if the Torians would know anything about Cybertron or the cities on it, nor would it matter to them—it was merely a show of formality.

A brief smile from Thunderclash showed Megatron the introduction was fine the way it was.

“Very good, sir,” Bella responded, blinking her large eyes in what was probably a “ _cute_ ” manner in relation to their species, then turned on her neatly manicured plantar-hooves. “Please follow me and I will escort you to the conference room with Master Nikk.”

The three mechs followed the very tall female bovine alien to a large conference room. Inside was a male bovine alien in a neat formal uniform of some sort. It had the same coloring and patterning as the female’s, which were likely the colors of the company they represented. The male had a clicker pointed at a screen and was flipping through slides, making a few murmurs and grunts as the entourage entered the room.

“Captain Megatron, honored guests—welcome. Korkol Industries would be proud to engage in business talks with your own company,” the male said. “I am Nikk of Jace—you may simply call me Nikk, our species rarely addresses by full names. I represent Korkol Industries branch of Production and Services, for our company President, Helm of Gren.”

He extended one hand in greeting and Megatron determined the protocol was similar to an Earth handshake. “Megatron of Tarn, representing the free exploration vessel, the _Lost Light_ ,” he responded to the male bovine with the medium-size horns on his head. Megatron had a feeling that like a more primitive version of the species—the larger your horns were, if you were male, the better your standing in this particular society. “We, also, tend not to use our full designations in address, so you may address me as _‘Megatron’_ —this is _Ratchet_ and _Thunderclash_ ,” he added, motioning at his companions.

“A pleasure to meet you all. Now, you said you would bring a sample of your fuel source to test against that of our elements you said would be good to make your fuel,” Nikk said, holding out his hands for whatever it was they were going to give him.

“Ratchet is the retired Chief Medical Officer of our ship, his knowledge and experience is more valuable than anything,” Megatron said, motioning at Ratchet who produced several small vials of different grades of Energon. “Energon is our primary fuel source. You may even call it our _‘food source’_ , without it— ** _we don’t live_**. Over the millennia we have developed grading systems for different blends of Energon and have even concocted a beverage from it which you might liken to recreational drinking, that is called _Engex_. It can be developed from many different minerals via processes our kind has refined over our peoples’ lifetimes.”

“ ** _Ah!_** _I understand now!_ It is a consumable fuel, not particularly for your spacecraft then,” Nikk responded, lining up the four vials of different grades of Energon on an eye level shelf-like area of machine behind him. A scanner went through the vials individually. “Barter for food is even better—one can respect that. What do you use for your ship, then?” He asked, by way of conversation as the scans worked through the elements it could pick out of the vials.

“The ship has quantum technology, so it is a mix of dark matter and plasma energy,” the older grey-colored mech responded, not wishing to go into details of what the fuel source actually was.

“ _Standard_ , then. Understood. My scans of your Energon show traces of elements that I’ve never seen before,” the male bovine murmured, staring at the screen of his device a bit puzzled.

“They may be elements native to our homeworld. Our Energon sources have started to run low since we became stranded here in your universe,” Ratchet said. He eyed the screen which showed the data in both the Torian language (probably) and Galactic Standard. “Like these two right here—they can only be found on Cybertron,” the old medic said, pointing at the screen. “However, we’ve learned to adapt over the millennia and have replaced some of the elements with ones found on other worlds. Like this third vial has substances from a planet we visited called Earth.”

“ ** _Ah, yes!_** _I see, I see._ So, then what is it you wish to commission us for?” The male bovine asked, stroking the little beard on the underside of his lower jaw.

“We looked at some of the products you’ve sold across the Galactic Alliance system and some of the elements you use in your products we think could be substituted to make new blends of Energon,” Thunderclash said in his warm, deep voice. “We are going to have to adapt, because we are in your universe now and it isn’t like we can skip back home to get more of our own Cybertronian Energon.”

“In particular, this one fuel you supplied to a world called _‘Quellan’_ —it has a chemical makeup that most resembles our Energon at its base core elements,” Megatron added, folding his arms across his chest. “Ratchet came along to see if he could take a look at the sample of that particular fuel and see if it would suit our needs.”

“Quellan, _let me see_ ………..” Nikk murmured, typing in something on his table keyboard and waited for the search to complete. “ ** _OH!_** Oh yes, _that fuel_. I think I can get a sample of it within the hour. Bella, I’d like you to go back to the main office and see if R-and-D can give you a sample of batch number eight-four-zero-six-nine-two!” He called over to the female bovine alien, who was just standing quietly over by the doorway.

“ _Eight-four-zero-six-nine-two_ , got it, sir,” Bella responded, writing it down on a pad of paper. Then she turned and left.

“Now, gentlemen—let us talk business,” Nikk chuckled, clapping his hands together with delight and smiled at the three Cybertronians.

* * * * *

In the end, the fuel with the numerical designation of Korkol Industries, had turned out that it would be a great base for new lines of Energon that would suit Cybertronian needs. Haggling a suitable price though— ** _that_** was the tough part of negotiations. Ultra Magnus gave them a base limit of funds and then a very sternly set limit—he warned Megatron to **_not_** go over the set limit or else he would penalize the Captain’s own paycheck for it.

Megatron was tempted, as he had very little use for the money he was earning, but he was Ultra Magnus’ friend and really didn’t feel like testing his friend’s limits on such a thing. Thunderclash turned out to be an excellent negotiator. In the end, they managed to get a price somewhere between Magnus’ base limit and the set limit—and promised to only purchase _this particular fuel_ _blend_ from Korkol Industries on Tor. They would not purchase _this particular fuel_ _blend_ from any other world, nor from any other industry on the planet.

They had to define it, thus, however. “ _This particular fuel blend_ ” had to be specified, because Megatron said that they would need to have options for fuel and could not be completely dependent on one planet or one line. They planned to explore this universe and it would eventually take them a long way from Tor. They could quantum jump back to the planet when they wished, but they didn’t want to abuse their engines by doing it constantly. The bovine aliens of this world understood that, but business was business and all the legal contracts had to be specified and signed properly. It was still more money they were making than before and that was important to them.

It was good for all ends of the spectrum, then.

“What do you think? Do you want to make a detour to Auocap and see if you can catch Rodimus in a race?” Thunderclash chuckled as they got back to their shuttlecraft. He briefly noted that the Trylian shuttle was gone. This time he claimed the co-pilot’s seat before Ratchet could and the old medic huffed as he sat down at one of the wall seats. “I’m sure it would be exciting and we could see what there is to see on Auocap.”

Megatron smiled, but shook his head. “ _No_. Let’s go back to the ship. I would rather prepare something nice for his return,” the grey-colored mech responded.

“ _Uh-hunh_ ,” Ratchet echoed from back where he was sitting.

“I think we know what **_that_** is,” Thunderclash chuckled.

Megatron grunted. “You’re teasing me, again,” he muttered, checking all systems on the shuttle and got ready to prepare for takeoff.

“ _It’s not teasing_ , it’s trying to get you to lighten up,” Ratchet said, a soft sound of amusement in the tone of his voice.

“Must you? It’s called a _character trait_. If I become all open and cheerful like the rest of you, how will I ever stand out?” Megatron replied, but there was just as much a tone of amusement in his voice as there had been in Ratchet’s.

The shuttle had barely gotten past the orbit of Tor when something slammed into them and the piloting cabin started flashing red lights and klaxons.

“We’ve been hit by laser fire on the starboard side of the shuttle!” Thunderclash snapped, grabbing the console in front of him as the shuttle lurched forwards and then rocked side-to-side as smaller bursts hit in rapid succession.

Ratchet grabbed the headboard back and the side portion of his seating area, being thankful he was buckled in tight. “It must be the Trylians—they must have left and decided to lie in wait for us to leave,” the old medic snapped, offlining his optics and focusing on an incycle and exvent to calm himself.

“I’m going to try a pulse burst of the engines and see if we can _‘dash past’_ and prepare ourselves for defense,” Megatron said, commandingly. “On my mark………..three, two……….”

He never got to the one count, something massive slammed into their shuttle and threw Megatron and Thunderclash out of their seats, across the piloting area and into the walls behind them. Ratchet was buckled in, so he was the only one conscious when the boarding party of a dozen Trylians came in through the hull and took them. The old Autobot medic got his first look at these aliens and even he could tell how fierce they were—and very used to conquest. It didn’t matter that they were cyborgs of an organic species, _these things were warrior to their cores_.

The Trylians took all three of them back aboard their warship and threw them into separate cells, all next to each other. Ratchet’s cell was in between Thunderclash’s and Megatron’s—and he was still the only one conscious when they were placed in the cells, so he was the only one awake when the other two finally came back online.

“ _Sound off, you brats_ ,” Ratchet called, moving to the front of his cell and putting his arms relaxedly through the bars as he felt the stirring in both their EM fields saying they were becoming conscious.

“ _Ugh_ , that was definitely not enjoyable,” Thunderclash groaned from his cell. “I’m just going to lay here awhile until my processors stabilize a bit more, the room is all swirly.”

“You might have a concussion, Thunders,” the old Autobot medic responded. “How about you, Megatron?”

“I’m functional,” the grey-colored mech responded, his tone low and quiet. “Are we on the warship?” He asked.

“I’m afraid so. Can you glyph? _I can’t_ ,” Ratchet said with a deep sigh. “Not even Drift.”

Megatron grunted and checked. He couldn’t send out a glyph message either, it just kept getting an error message on his HUD. That wasn’t a very good sign. Normal glyph-sendings he could understand being blocked, but a glyph-message that might carry along a Spark-bond being blocked was a completely different story. If neither he, nor Ratchet, could communicate with their sparkmates, it was definitely a very bad sign. He tried to send a glyph to Thunderclash or Ratchet to see if it was being blocked via distance or in general and got the same error response—and definitely no response from the either of them.

“They’ve found out about our ability to glyph-message,” Thunderclash said from his cell. “Ratch, make the ceiling stop spinning, would you mate?” He groaned, softly.

“Just offline your optics, all right—let your processors settle and your nanites work,” Ratchet chided of his old friend. “The fact they’ve figured out how to block it is also incredibly troublesome for us.”

“We have no way of communicating out. They will have no idea what happened to us, because if they contact Tor, they’ll be given the logs of when our shuttle departed. We had no warning to send out even a distress beacon before they hit us,” Megatron said, coming to the bars of his cell and looking out into the area of the cellblock.

_Only cells on one side of the room?_ Why was the design like **_that_**? Don’t let prisoners see each other? Megatron wondered what was on the other side of the wall across from the cells.

“So, we’ve _vanished_. I think most everyone will assume it’s the Trylians, since they’ve targeted us the moment we first interacted with one another in this universe,” Thunderclash said, softly. “At least I can still feel your fields, the both of you. They can’t take the physical from us, yet. Though I wonder how they are blocking our glyph-sending?” He mused softly.

“They might deduce the Trylians, but they’ll have no clue where we might be at. We don’t know the capabilities of their warship and how it can travel. We could be sectors away from Tor if they’ve got warp-hop or transwarp engines,” Megatron added, examining every corner and every inch of the wall across from their cells. It was a fairly long corridor, so…………

“ _Hab blocks_. These are old hab blocks—they’ve _never_ intended for prisoners,” Ratchet suddenly said—his voice sounding to Megatron like he’d moved elsewhere in his cell. “Given the impression I get from them, I think they’d rather kill than capture—so, **_why_** capture us?”

Megatron leaned on the straight bar in the center of the barred cell door and offlined his optics to think about everything. From what little they’d gathered of the Trylians—they were stuck _here_ in **_this universe_**. The universe in which they came from, their species was trying to oust the Decepticons from a star system—and a planet called “ _Chaar_ ” in particular. They were aware that Rodimus was essentially the same mech as the one they called Hot Rod back from their universe.

What if they were trying to get home? Even though Ultra Magnus reported overhearing them say something about settling here in this universe—they hadn’t known about the _Lost Light_ , then. Now that they had been confronted with another ship that had come from another different universe………perhaps they thought they might have found a way back to their own universe instead?

“Perhaps they want the _Lost Light_ to try and get them back to their own universe?” Megatron finally said, aloud, sharing his thoughts with the two other Autobots in the area with him.

“You might have something there. But they don’t understand we didn’t even control getting _‘here’_. We just tried something to get away from Cybertron, it may not have even worked and we may not even be able to replicate it,” Ratchet muttered, pacing his cell.

“It was a gamble, based on theories and something your crew did before—however accidental it was,” Thunderclash chuckled. He’d talked with Brainstorm and Nautica about it—hearing the theories and hearing about the original incident that had duplicated the _Lost Light_ once already. Then the time travel issue that had spawned off the Functionist Universe, it seemed. “So, possibly we may be held for ransom—they might gamble on Rodimus’ personality being like the Hot Rod’s in their universe and his excessive compassion making him weak to negotiations.”

“He **_does_** have excessive compassion,” Ratchet grunted, optics scanning every inch of his cell. “And odds are, they’ve been listening to us the whole time. I’m not familiar with much of their technology, but it sounds like they have nanotechnology throughout their ship and, I’m assuming, in their cybernetics as well.”

“You think something like a hive mind might rule them?” Thunderclash asked, finally starting to feel better enough to stand up and walk to the bars of his cell now. Like Megatron, he scanned every inch of the hallway and the wall across from the cells.

“Maybe not as such, but…………..they may get a sense of everything around them, like we might have with our fields,” the old Autobot medic responded.

Just then, a door at the end of the hallway opened and a large Trylian male entered. He had gold bands around his upper arms, where Ratchet noted no others he’d seen so far had such adornments—and this likely meant this was the one in charge. He motioned to others behind him.

“We plan to interrogate you, one at a time, and see if we can break you down a bit before we move forward with our plans,” the powerful male said, standing in front of Ratchet’s cell and closer to the wall, so all three Cybertronians could see him. “Any volunteers?” He chuckled, grinning deviously at the three mechs.

All three Cybertronians vocally made known how they felt at once— _and all three volunteered_.

“So eager for a beating! Let’s see— ** _you_** , grey one! Name and rank!” The captain of the Trylian warship snapped, glancing over to Megatron’s cell.

“Megatron of Tarn, Captain of the _Lost Light_ ,” the grey-colored mech said, standing up straight and proud.

“Well, then. **_You’ll do_** ,” the Trylian captain chortled, motioning to his guards to take Megatron from his cell and then they all left the prisoner area.

* * * * *

“ ** _Megatron_** , is it?” The Trylian captain asked, as soon as the guards had him completely secured to the torture rack.

Though, to Megatron, he’d seen torture racks far more torturous than this one. It was an odd one that was in the shape of a “ _Y_ ”, though the top part curved in so that hands could be cuffed together. His legs were uncomfortable at being cuffed together at the knees for the bottom part of the “ _Y_ ”.

“I believe that was what I said my name was,” the grey-colored mech responded with a glare at the cyborged cyclops male.

“I already don’t like it. We had our hands full with a Galvatron, we should just dispose of him now,” one of the other Trylians said from somewhere behind the torture rack—therefore Megatron couldn’t see him.

“I believe I asked for silence from all crew while I’m in interrogations,” the captain snapped, staring over Megatron’s shoulders at the other one in the room, who had made the comment.

The room went very quiet and even the cyborgs’ breathing slowed to make more silence in the room.

“If I asked, would you turn over your ship to us?” The Trylian captain asked, placing his fingers under Megatron’s chin to make the mech look directly into his single dark brown eye.

“Perhaps in your most lurid fantasies I might, but this is reality—so, **_no_**. I have no intention of doing so and you will not make Rodimus do so either,” Megatron responded, calmly holding the cyborged alien’s gaze.

Suddenly the Trylian captain smiled. “I see. It’s like _that_ , is it? Perhaps you are your own universe’s version of Galvatron then, claiming your universe’s version of Hot Rod,” he chuckled.

“Not hardly. Our universe’s Galvatron is a foolish barbarian who thought conquest would be done in a year or less,” Megatron snorted. 

Well, maybe not exactly like _that_. But Megatron had no love for their universe’s version of Galvatron whatsoever. He wasn’t going to give the barbarian any sort of praise whatsoever.

“And Rodimus is the true captain of the _Lost Light_ —I only happen to share duties with him. He is the legal owner of that ship,” Megatron added, a devious little smile crossing his faceplate. “That ship is part of his Spark—it means a lot to him and he won’t surrender it to someone like you. Not to any of you.”

“Covering up your tracks after practically bragging about a relationship with him?” The tall cyborged-cyclops laughed, stepping away from Megatron and moving around behind the torture rack. “Nice try, but I have a basic understanding of how your species’ _Spark-bonds_ go. You would not believe the depths Galvatron would go to in protecting Hot Rod—and Galvatron is not the type to be attached to anything, _he’s a murderous and ferocious beast_.”

Megatron frowned. He hadn’t been overt, but perhaps just by mentioning Rodimus’ name gave his voice a tone that………..? He sighed. The older grey-colored mech had been enjoying every moment of his relationship, he forgot how to “ _rein it in_ ” emotionally.

“There seems to be enough overlap between your original universe and ours—perhaps you’ve heard of a Decepticon named _‘Starscream’_ —or rather, former Decepticon. Galvatron killed him and a Quintesson brought him back to life, now he’s on a vengeance path and he’s growing his own army of outcast Cybertronians,” the Trylian captain said, very firmly. “They’re calling themselves Destrons and they’re very much against both Autobots and Decepticons.”

Megatron listened very carefully. So, _that universe’s_ Starscream went and traversed an even darker path than what the Decepticons became as conquerors in his own universe had.

“But Starscream’s doing more than the Decepticons ever did—he’s recruiting other unhappy races in the universe, making alliances so that all of us can get what we desire in the end,” the Trylian captain continued. “As such, he’s been sharing discoveries and gave us all something rather unique and fun to experiment with.”

The one who was once a Deception Leader and tyrant frowned—a Starscream who was just as scientific as Shockwave, **_that_** would be a very dangerous mech indeed. Megatron thought that at least his universe’s Starscream probably was a far better mech than this other universe’s one. But the fact that this other Starscream was sharing his scientific stuff with other species, that began to worry Megatron greatly. He could only imagine if his universe’s Shockwave had shared his scientific plans and discoveries—it would be a great and possibly even widespread danger to the universe at large.

“He created this drug called _‘Corodine’_. It can even affect you Cybertronians—though in a far different way than it affects organic species,” the Trylian captain continued and Megatron hear various sounds of moving around equipment from somewhere behind him. “At it’s base, the drug can be made of common elements, but there’s an activator element that can be changed depending on the species and depending on what you want to experience from the drug.”

Megatron did not like this at all. They were going to inject him with some sort of organic drug that a Starscream of another universe created— _something that could even affect Cybertronians_! This was **_not_** something like circuit-speeders or pleasure-enhancers that Cybertronians designed for Cybertronian systems………..this was something that posed a danger to a Cybertronian system!

“A Telosian scientist named Hala Jurel found the activator element that works on your kind. And he found a good way to use it in your systems to make a docile slave out of you fierce mechanicals,” the male cyborged-cyclops chuckled. “Let us _tame a Cybertronian_ —then you may feel differently about handing over your ship.”

All of the sudden he felt something near his neck and complete panic settled in—Megatron no longer thought about the fact that they were going to inject him with an organic drug that supposedly worked on Cybertronian systems, **_there were going to be needles that were going into his neck_** …………and that alone brought back memories that Megatron wished he could erase from all of his mind and frame.

The grey-colored mech stiffened when something touched his neck, then there was a shove and he felt it pierce his neck-cabling, even as something clamped securely about his neck. Before he knew it, Megatron of Tarn was screaming—not from the prick of the needle entering, but from the flood of horrible memories that such an action brought with it.

_And then, **something broke** inside of him._

Maybe it was his mind. Maybe it was his Spark. _All he knew was that something broke and………._

* * * * *

When Rodimus’ optics came online and his HUD ran through a systems’ check, he saw the familiar ceiling of the _Lost Light_ ’s medi-bay above him. His HUD displayed an error code that he’d never seen before and the flame-colored mech felt a very strange coldness in his chest, _deep in his chest_ , somewhere around…………..

“ _My Spark. **Megatron**_ ………….” the flame-colored Autobot murmured softly, bringing an arm up to his head and rested the back of a servo against his forehead.

“ ** _Rodimus_**!” A chorus of familiar voices said, instantly.

First Aid, Velocity and Drift were suddenly hovering around him—the two medics instantly checking all his vitals and he could feel their medical fields pressing against him to check for any other damage that the machinery of the medi-bay couldn’t pick up on. They both felt his feeling of a strange coldness in his chest and neither could evaluate any cure for _that_.

But Drift understood right away.

“Rodimus, Megatron’s _not dead_ , is he?” The grey-and-white mech asked softly, laying a servo on the side of Rodimus’ faceplate and rubbing the tips of his digits against his amica’s temple soothingly.

“ _I don’t………I can’t tell_. It feels **_very cold_** —I can’t feel him, Drift………… _I can’t feel him anymore_!” Rodimus cried, leaning into Drift’s servo, all of his emotions beginning to register nothing but ache and loss inside of him.

Velocity frowned and First Aid made a strange little sound.

“That doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard someone who’s experience a broken bond say,” First Aid murmured, quietly.

“Me neither,” Velocity sighed, shaking her head.

“What about Thunderclash and Ratchet—what’ve they said? Did _they_ explain what happened?” Rodimus asked, quietly, offlining his optics and moving his own servo from his forehead to place it over Drift’s on this side of his faceplate.

“They didn’t make it back. We don’t know what happened, the Torians have the log that they left quite some time ago,” First Aid said, firmly. “However, Drift says he can still feel Ratchet, so that’s a sign that _he’s_ alright, at least.”

“Ultra Magnus has moved the _Lost Light_ to the area around Tor and we’re looking for anything—trails, debris, just anything at all,” Velocity added. “I don’t like that Rodimus can’t feel Megatron, but Drift can still feel Ratchet— _that_ bothers me tremendously.”

Rodimus couldn’t help but agree. But right now, he felt so cold and empty and he wasn’t sure he could get up and move around while he felt like **_this_**.

“Rodimus—I would like you to remain in this berth for a little while yet, Drift said he would be happy to stay with you for the time being. I’m going to go and report what little more we know to Ultra Magnus, now that you’re awake,” First Aid said, nodding at the flame-colored mech. “Velocity will be around the medi-bay if you need her. Nickel is around, too, as well as the droids.”

With that, First Aid left the medi-bay and went to the bridge. Ultra Magnus was busy walking between the stations and out the main windows before them was………..the small medic suddenly shook his head and sighed.

“As you’ve guessed, we’ve found the wreckage of the shuttle that Megatron and the others took,” Ultra Magnus said, walking back to the captain’s chair and settling down as he typed things on a datapad. “Inquiring more on Tor, we found that a squad of Trylians were also on the planet, negotiating for fuel and such things. We are now thinking it’s possible that the Trylians may have decided to take advantage of a small group of ours and attacked them.”

“Drift can still feel Ratchet, but Rodimus says he just feels _‘very cold’_. He can’t feel his bond with Megatron, but I’m not certain it’s actually broken, however,” the CMO of the _Lost Light_ said, firmly, eyeing the scene of the wreckage in front of them, out the main windows. “ ** _Broken_** would be _very different_ , **_broken_** would mean that Rodimus would want to die and he hasn’t said anything like that yet—and with the way he had always been, it would be the very first thing he’d try to do.”

“If something’s happened to Megatron, he may have done something to prevent feedback through the bond to Rodimus,” the old soldier responded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Megatron has so many ways out of situations, if he were worried of doing something that might affect Rodimus—I’m fairly certain he’d find a way to cut himself off, so he wouldn’t hurt Rodimus.”

“You might be right about that,” the smaller red-and-white mech sighed, deeply. He tapped his datapad against his other palm, lightly, frowning beneath his facial shield. “Megatron is a strange aberration of our species, but he’s very much worthy of study from a medical standpoint. Someone who can cheat even a Spark-bond is simply………..well, it’s _sheer insanity_.”

“Is Rodimus all right, then? Despite feeling _‘very cold’_?” The stern ship’s second asked, looking over at the small CMO.

“Yes, he’s fine. All of his vitals are normal,” First Aid sighed. “His emotional state, though—that’s going to be tough for him until we can get Megatron back.”

“Ultra Magnus! Got something on the comm—you’re gonna wanna hear this!” Blaster snapped, opening the channel to the main speaker of the bridge so everyone could hear it.

There was a crackling of static before a very familiar, cranky old voice could be heard.

**[ _~bzzt~_ …….anyone out there, dammit? _~fsstz~_ ]**

“ _Ratchet_!” First Aid gasped.

**[ _~tccchtbzzt~_ ……..can’t even tell if the damn thing’s working! For the love of everything—I need _someone_ on an Autobot frequency to hear this! _~crrakktfzz~_ ]**

“It’s coming from a Trylian speeder, sir,” Hound said, bringing up the main monitor that hung over the front window of the piloting area.

“Mag-clamp it down to be safe—I’ll take some security and go aboard to make sure that it is indeed Ratchet,” Ultra Magnus said with a soft snap of orders in his voice as he rose from the captain’s chair and sent a brief glyph to a small squad of three armed soldiers to come to the shuttle bay with him.

Hound and the other bridge crew worked on locking on a tractor beam to pull the Trylian speeder into the shuttle bay and then had it mag-clamped down in the hangar. The mag-clamps would prevent any doors on the craft from being opened, until an order was given for release. Just as that was being done, Ultra Magnus went down to the shuttle bay with three members of security behind him. Once there in front of the small speeder craft, the old Autobot soldier saw Ratchet’s familiar frame in the main window of the craft and immediately ordered the mag-clamp to be released.

Because the gesture Ratchet gave him through the window meant the old medic was already **_seven kinds of pissed off_**. And that was very Ratchet.

“I apologize, I was merely seeing to the safety of the ship………” the red-white-blue mech began as Ratchet jumped out of the ship’s cockpit and was growling and snarling in a very low tone. “Are you alright, Ratchet? Do you have any injuries?” Ultra Magnus asked, carefully.

Ratchet incycled and exvented, _very, incredibly hard_ ………..but with a rhythm, just as Drift taught him.

“I’m fine, Magnus. But it’s all gone to the Pit and…………. _how’s Rodimus_?” He asked, a soft grunt in his voice as he got his emotions under control and his EM field to settle down.

“Then is Megatron……….? Rodimus is alive, but he says he feels _‘very cold’_ ,” Ultra Magnus explained as he dismissed the security and was about to walk with Ratchet to the medi-bay.

“I’ll explain, shortly. **_Get rid of the craft_** ,” the old medic snapped. “The Trylians have a sort of bio-bond with their nanotechnology. We don’t want it to infect the _Lost Light_ , because with this ship’s odd luck, that would happen.”

“ _Understood_ ,” the old soldier responded. He sent a message up to Hound on the bridge to get rid of the Trylian speeder and make sure it couldn’t be used or traced. Then he sent an order to warp-hop to the nearest Galactic Ranger Patrol facility.

After that was all taken care of, _at Ratchet’s insistence_ , he went with the old medic to the bridge. Ratchet had assured him he sent a glyph to Drift already and cautioned him to stay with Rodimus, for now. Once they were at the Galactic Ranger Patrol outpost, they would meet with some of the Rangers and then Ratchet would tell them **_everything_** that had happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of my "Dark Megatron" arc...……..uh, it's gonna last for a few more stories in this series, so I hope you're ready for that.
> 
> A little note--if you read my G1S3 GalvaRod 'fics………..you're aware a little bit of the Corodine thing, the collars and Hala Jurel using them on the Battle Masters he'd enslaved. The Corodine angle will eventually be covered more over there, as well. :)


End file.
